


all this and heaven too

by bloomsoftly



Series: thank you ficlets [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:57:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomsoftly/pseuds/bloomsoftly
Summary: On his way to woo one Jane Foster over to the dark side (i.e., corporate work), Tony gets into a car accident and is stranded on a rainy Virginia highway in the middle of the night. Luckily, there's a Good Samaritan ready and willing to pick him up. As long as he promises not to murder her and hide her body in the woods, of course.(a no powers AU)





	all this and heaven too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sara47q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara47q/gifts).



> a thank you fic for Sara47q. ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> thank you, queenie, for pointing out all my plot holes and correcting my dumb spelling errors. all mistakes are mine.

“Please don’t be an axe murderer,” Darcy muttered to herself as she flicked on her emergency flashers and eased onto the shoulder of the two-lane highway. “Please, please, please. Please don’t make me regret this.”

The figure in her side mirror hesitated, standing so still she could hardly see them in the flickering of her brake light—the rain was coming down in heavy sheets, so heavily that she’d been worried about making it home safely even without the added danger of picking up a stranger from the side of the road. After a moment she considered driving away, but then the figure started to move.

As the person’s reflection grew bigger and more distinct in her rainy side mirror, Darcy was reminded of the terror she’d felt watching Jurassic Park for the first time. A human was a lot different than a giant T-Rex, of course, but her brain wouldn’t let go of the comparison. The ominous click and slide of her windshield wipers didn’t help.

Her mind flitted through all the possibilities—running the gamut from an assassin fleeing the scene of a crime to an escaped convict—but then the person was knocking on her window and she had no more time to think. It was either let him in or drive off and leave him to drown in rainwater and mud. After hesitating for a split second longer, she went with option C and rolled her window down halfway.

“What the hell are you doing out here, dude?”

“Seriously? We can’t have this conversation in the car?”

For all that the rain had soaked through his clothes and plastered his hair to his head, the man’s look was as dry as the New Mexico desert. He was spectacularly attractive, with a face so handsome she couldn’t even fault him for his goatee. She didn’t even like goatees, but somehow he pulled it off a little too well.

He tapped an impatient finger against the half-open window, reminding Darcy why option C hadn’t actually been a real…option. With a slight huff, she rolled her car window up. It was impossible not to grin at the look of indignant rage on the man’s face; he clearly thought she was going to abandon him to the elements.

Instead, she reached over and popped the door open. He slid in immediately, and she mourned the fabric of her passenger seat as he immediately drenched it.

“You’re not gonna kill me, are you?” Her tone was blunt—better to get it out of the way immediately.

The man was clearly a fan of incredulous stares. His gazed bored into the side of her face as she pulled out onto the highway, his jaw slack with bemused horror. Her unease from picking up a stranger immediately abated, replaced with an unholy glee from getting under his skin.

“You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Dude, how often do you pick up strangers who are hitchhiking in the middle of the night, in a rainstorm no less? Of course I’m not joking.”

The silence following that statement was pronounced, and stretched for so long she glanced over to make sure he was still conscious. He was, though clearly befuddled. His mouth worked a couple of times before he found his words.

“You’re serious. You really don’t know who I am.” That statement was ominous, and her head shot over to stare at him.

“Oh my god, and I supposed to? Are you an escaped convict or something?” Her eyes darted back to the road—convict or not, she did not want to kill both of them by wrapping her car around a tree—and she desperately tried to remember where she’d put her taser. Was it in her purse?

“What? No. No, no, look—nevermind. And I’m not going to kill you, okay? Sheesh, relax. Although…it’s not like I’d tell you if I was planning on it. I’d be a stupid murderer, don’t you think?” She snorted at that, and he grinned.

“Alright, axe murderer. Where are you headed? And how the hell did you end up walking down this road, anyway?”

_(read more link here)_

“I was headed to Willowdale. Car accident.” At her worried glance, he grinned disarmingly. “I’m not injured. Not gonna bleed out in your car, I promise.”

“I wasn’t thinking of that,” she scoffed. “Do you have a room booked at the motel?” He must be rich, she thought, based on the way his nose wrinkled at the word.

“Nah.” He waved a nonchalant hand through the air. “I was acting on a more spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.”

“Uh huh.” His apparent ease with the entire loss of a car and general lack of plans or care for where he was staying the night was driving her crazy, so she added, “And how’s that worked out for you so far?”

He ignored her, turning his face to the window, and she pushed away the immediate stab of regret at her harsh words. “Alright, we’ll try the motel first then.”

The rest of the drive was silent save for the thudding of the rain on her roof and the squeak-slide of the wipers. A few minutes in, she realized that his wet clothing must be making him cold and uncomfortable even if he refused to complain. When her hands reached to turn on the heat, his eyes tracked her movements. He didn’t verbalize his thanks, but she thought she caught him relaxing slightly out of the corner of her eye.

As they pulled into the motel parking lot, they stared up at the neon sign with twin looks of dismay. No matter how many times she blinked up at it, the bright orange NO VACANCY glared stubbornly down at her. With a sigh, she threw the car into park and leaned back against her seat. She was out of ideas—Willowdale wasn’t exactly big enough for anything more than a crappy motel, so there was nowhere else she could take him. The nearest city was an hour away, and there was only so much she was willing to do for a (charming, handsome, funny) stranger.

“I’m going to check inside,” he declared. “Maybe I can grease a palm or two.”

She stifled a laugh, but settled for, “That’s not really how things work around here, man.” She could see from the tension in his jaw that he wasn’t going to give up, and she sighed.

“Do you want me to wait for you?”

He turned at that, staring openly at her. “What?”

“Do you want me to wait for you, in case it doesn’t work out?” When it didn’t work out, she amended silently.

He blinked rapidly, as if her offer was entirely unexpected, then shook it off. “No. Thanks. I’m sure it’ll work out fine. Thanks for the lift.” The words were rusty, and she got the sense that not many people knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of his gratitude. Especially not twice in one statement.

Without another word, he opened the door and slid out into the rain, taking the heat with him. She bit her lip in indecision.

When he trudged out of the motel ten minutes later, dejection evident in every line of his body, she started the engine. His head shot up at the sound, and this time he didn’t hesitate to sprint for the passenger door. They were both grinning as he slid into the still-drenched seat.

“So,” he drawled, ignoring the rivulets of water that were making their way down his forehead and the bridge of his nose, as if he wasn’t having the worst night ever, “where to?”

 

* * *

 

“This,” she proclaimed with an expansive gesture that was altogether too grand for her tiny apartment, “is my humble abode.”

Tony—just Tony, he’d said with a devilish grin—opened his mouth, but she cut him off with an accusatory finger. His mouth clicked shut so rapidly it was almost audible.

“I don’t want to hear a single word about the depths of its humility, dude.” When he rolled his eyes and opened his mouth again, she pulled out the big guns. “One word, and I’m kicking you back out into the rain to drown.”

The man pulled out his best innocent expression.

“Who, me?” He leaned in to whisper it against her ear as he skirted around her to explore the living space, so close that her hair shifted with his breath. She had to close her eyes and count to five before she could turn to follow him, willing her blush to subside. Bringing a stranger home to sleep on her couch out of the goodness of her heart was quite enough; she didn’t need to add attraction to the mix. Speaking of which, she should probably at least text Jane—on the off chance that he really was an axe murderer or something.

When she finally turned, still texting her friend, he was eyeing her couch with extreme dubiousness.

“Yep,” she confirmed, popping the ‘p’, “that’s where you’ll be staying.”

He turned around, and she was utterly unprepared for the charm that he effortlessly exuded through every pore. “Are you sure?” His tone was low and seductive, and the intimacy of it sent chills down her spine. The blush was back in full force, and then she realized—

“Nice try, dude. But you’re still on the couch.” At least her tone was even; no one needed to know how much that attempt had actually affected her, least of all him.

“Well, it was worth a shot.” His pout made her laugh.

“Mhmm. Let me grab you a blanket, Casanova. And some sweatpants and a t-shirt. I think I still have some of my ex’s clothing around. Hmm.”

“I prefer Don Juan, actually—” he called after her. She cut him off with a pillow to the face.

“Cool. Good night, Magic Mike.” His surprised laughter followed her into dreams.

It was surprisingly easy to sleep with him in the next room, for all that he was a stranger. She still locked her bedroom door, though. When Jane called, she answered the phone with a sigh.

“Hey, Janie.”

“What the hell are you doing, Darce?”

 

* * *

 

When Darcy woke up the next morning, she almost convinced herself that it was all a dream. Nothing more than a bored woman’s fantasy, adding a little spice to her otherwise routine existence.

Just as she was about to roll over and lose herself in fantasies of that smile, those mischievous eyes, that beard she’d love to rub herself all over, there was a muttered curse from the kitchen. Immediately afterward came the smell of something burning. It mixed with the smell of freshly-brewed coffee, turning the tantalizing smell into something acrid and smoky. Clearly, her dream man was not a dream. And he was up to no good.

She barely had the presence of mind to throw on a sports bra and finger comb her hair before leaving her bedroom, making a quick pitstop in the bathroom to pee and brush her teeth.  As she rounded the corner to the kitchen, she caught her unexpected guest dumping something black and crispy into the trashcan.

“Sheesh, what did those pancakes ever do to you?” Tony’s eyes widened at her words—he hadn’t seen her come in. He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off with an exclamation of horror. “What on earth did you do to my coffee maker?”

His answering smile was smug. “I made a few improvements.” Without elaborating, he handed her a mug full of the steaming liquid. She took a cautious sip, fighting the urge to close her eyes in bliss. Even though she’d known him less than twenty-four hours, she knew better than to give him the satisfaction. He caught it anyway. “Good, huh?”

“But—why? It was fine the way it was.”

“It moved slower than a car in New York traffic and it smelled like burning rubber when you turned it on.” She fought a smile, recognizing that same dry tone from when she’d dared to leave him out in the rain the evening before.

“It had character.” He scoffed, and she changed the topic rapidly, not wanting him to go on a home improvement spree because he felt like he had something to prove. “So, what happened to breakfast?”

“Not my strong suit.” The smell of charred batter lingered in the air, belying his casual shrug. He gulped down his own cup of coffee—straight black, how boring—he said, “But I am very good at buying breakfast.”

That made her laugh. “Alright, let’s hit up Willowdale’s only diner.”

“But first, do you have a phone I can borrow? Mine garbled its swan song in the rain.”

Grateful for the breather, she handed him her phone and headed for the shower. There was only so much of his eyes and that smolder and the general intensity of him she could take before feeling like she was going to either scream or push him up against the wall and have her wicked way with him. Hence, the need for a break.

Fifteen minutes later, she was clean and feeling much better equipped to deal with her silver-tongued guest. He was still on the phone as she rounded the corner.

“C’mon, Pep. This is not the worst thing I’ve done over the years. No—yes, there’s a reason I drove down here in the middle of the night. No, I can’t talk about it right now, this isn’t a secure line—what?”

Darcy hovered in the doorway at his back, torn between the desire to honor his privacy and a morbid curiosity over who was managing to keep him so off-kilter. Then again, he was talking loud enough to rouse the entire building, so he clearly wasn’t worried about keeping things secret.

“No, I do not have a new girlfriend. A Good Samaritan picked me up off the side of the road last night and—no, I did not sleep with her. Jesus, Pep, I haven’t been like that in years.” She stifled a snort of amusement; considering his half-assed attempt at seducing his way into her bed the night before, that was only half true. She really didn’t need to listen in on his conversation with his friend (girlfriend? Colleague? Who knew), so she turned around and went back the way she’d come. He’d find her when he was ready to go, she had no doubt.

 

* * *

 

“What’s that face?” As soon as she pointed it out, his expression smoothed out into an unassuming mask. All that was left to show his disdain was a soft arch of one eyebrow.

“What? What face? I don’t know what you’re talking about—no seriously. This is the only diner in town?” His eyes bored into hers, as if he thought she was pulling one over on him.

“Yes, it is. And since they don’t scorch their pancakes, we’re staying. And besides, Willowdale isn’t exactly the pinnacle of high society, Tony. We have one crappy motel and one dingy diner—”

“Say that five times fast,” he cut in, snickering.

Ignoring him, she continued on,” So really, I’m wondering what the hell you’re really doing here.”

He stared her down—after all his flirting, it was disconcerting to suddenly be facing a serious Tony. His eyes leveled out as he searched her gaze; she had no idea what he was suspicious of or what he was searching for, but she could tell when he didn’t find it. All of a sudden, his eyebrows smoothed out and the tension in his jaw was gone, and he went back to tapping his fingers against the plastic tabletop.

“I’m headhunting, actually.” At her startled flinch, he rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Darce, you’ve gotta get rid of your axe murderer worries. I meant it in the business sense. I’m here to recruit a scientist for a technology company.”

A niggling suspicion started at the back of her brain, and she couldn’t help but wonder, “Which scientist? You’re talking about one of the faculty at Culver, I assume.”

He hummed in agreement. “Doctor Jane Foster. You probably haven’t heard about her. A relatively new up-and-comer, I’ll grant, but I can spot genius right away and—”

“What does a technology company want with an astrophysicist?”

Stunned into silence, Tony blinked at her for a solid minute. Then he grinned wolfishly.

“You know her?”

“Oh, sure. I’ve only been working with her for the past five years or so.” She shoveled a bite of pancake in her mouth and tried not to moan. Tony could say what he wanted about the aesthetic—Stanley knew how to make damn good breakfast.

When she glanced up, Tony was staring at her. Whether it was from the blissful look on her face or her casual admission, it wasn’t clear. She was halfway through her pancake before he found the words he wanted to say.

“You work with Jane Foster. And you’re not—”

“A doctor? No. Not even a science-y type, actually. And yet Janie and I work perfectly together. Which is why you should heed my warning—she’s not gonna be an easy one to win over. Jane likes her comfort, her plaid shirts and her routine, as crazy as that routine might seem to everyone else. But you didn’t answer my question—what does a technology company want with Jane Foster?”

“Her theories would be very…useful in some of the research they’re currently developing,” he said, eyes bright and grin shark-like. She felt as though she was being expertly boxed into a corner, and didn’t know what she could do about it. With a sigh, she signaled for the check.

“Alright, then. Might as well get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

“No.”

Darcy stifled a laugh—it was the fifth refusal in as many minutes, and Jane hadn’t even bothered to look up from her database for this one. Tony shot her a desperate look for support, but she shook her head and laughed.

“Don’t look at me, hotshot. I warned you. Janie, I’m gonna go grab us all some coffee. Let y’all get your little song and dance out of the way.” Patting her best friend and boss on the shoulder, she leaned in to whisper, “I’m not just saying this because he’s hot, but try to go a little easy on him? The man got in a car accident last night and still insisted on coming to our little town to woo you. He’s determined, if nothing else.”

Jane didn’t say anything in reply, but a faint smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. On her way out the door, Darcy pointed at Tony.

“You. Behave.”

“I feel like you know me too well already, Short Stack. Go, get your caffeine fix. Mighty Mouse and I will be fine.”

“If you want to win her over, you might want to stop making fun of her size. Just a friendly warning.” As she left, Jane was nodding emphatically while Tony stifled a smirk.

Right as the door slid shut behind her, she heard Tony say, “So. Tell me about Darcy.”

It was almost enough to make her turn right back around.

 

* * *

 

“We probably should’ve called ahead, after the debacle last night,” Darcy remarked as she pulled into the motel’s parking lot. “Luckily, it looks like they have still have rooms available for tonight.” The NO of the vacancy sign was conspicuously unlit.

The relief she’d expected to feel at getting rid of him never came. Instead, anxiety sat heavy in her gut. It wasn’t until he was unbuckling his seatbelt that she was able to identify it: the sense of an opportunity lost.

He turned to her, as composed as ever with a little twinkle in his eye. “You gonna wait for me? Just in case?”

Casting a dubious glance up at the clearly-lit vacancy sign, she sighed. It was better to save her breath rather than to argue, she’d learned in the twenty-four hours or so that she’d known him. “Sure, Tony. I’ll wait.”

With a grin, he disappeared.

Less than two minutes later, he was striding back toward the passenger side of her car. “Oh no,” he said, aiming for a deadpan tone but unable to completely mask his mischief, “they were all booked.”

She stared at him. As they sat in silence, the neon orange above them flickered to life. NO VACANCY. With another gusty sigh, she put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space.

“You bought out the entire motel, didn’t you?”

“Yep,” he replied with zero remorse.

“Alright. If you like sleeping on my couch that much, who am I to stop you.”

“You sure I can’t convince you to revisit the bed discussion? I’m a master snuggler, I’ll have you know.” Interestingly, he didn’t lean into her space or drop his eyes to her chest as he spoke, as so many other men would. Tony, it seemed, enjoyed the verbal sparring as much as he wanted to see her naked. It improved her opinion of him by a mile.

“I’m sure you are.” Her glance at his well-defined arms wasn’t subtle.

“But I’m pretty sure that Jane is going to accept the offer of employment—for both of us—at Stark Industries. And I’m not about to screw it all up by sleeping with the man whose name is on the side of the building before we even get a chance to see New York.”

“So you did know who I was!” he crowed in triumph. The pull of his grin was too strong, and she couldn’t help but return it. Her heart thudded in her chest, and that was the moment she knew she was in serious trouble.

Darcy laughed. “No, I really didn’t. But Jane made sure to tell me. She reamed me out for bringing the Tony Stark to the lab without any advance warning.”

“Oops.”

“Uh-huh.” She wasn’t buying his innocent act—really, she wondered if anyone ever did. There was something about him that screamed cunning and mayhem.

“So the sleeping arrangements—”

“Not happening, Tony.”

“I wouldn’t really be your boss, you know. Or Foster’s, really.”

“So you wouldn’t be able to make my life hell if we slept together and it crashed and burned? Whisper some words in the right ears, and suddenly Jane and I are both out of a job?” He blinked at her, as if he’d never thought of it that way. “Exactly.”

He hesitated, then quietly stated, “I know you don’t know me well enough to know that I’m telling the truth, but I would never do that.”

“I can’t take that chance.” She shrugged one shoulder and stared straight ahead. The sense of loss was back, churning in her gut and telling her that she was making a mistake. But she wouldn’t stake Jane’s career on the outcome of a one-night stand, no matter how hard her ovaries cried.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod and turn to look out the window. He wouldn’t bring it up again. Softly, he said to the window, “It would’ve been really good, though.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it would’ve.”

 

* * *

 

There was a car waiting for Tony the following afternoon, after he’d coaxed an official ‘yes’ from Jane.

“I don’t do hugs,” he said to Darcy, who wasn’t even standing near him.

“Cool.”

“But—if you ever change your mind, Short Stack, my bed is always open.” He slid his sunglasses partway down his nose to show off the bawdy wink he tossed in her direction.

“Cool. But you need to work on your game, Tony. If you really wanted a shot with me, you wouldn’t call me Short Stack. Because that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Ever.”

“Double D?” She wrinkled her nose. “No? That’s too bad. See you around, Darce.”

He stepped in close, enough to brush his lips softly against the side of her head. It was so soft she barely felt any pressure at all, and she had to keep her hands fisted at her sides. No hugs.

“By the way,” he added on his way out the door, “I bought you a new couch. Yours is atrocious—doesn’t even deserve the name.” And then he was breezing out of her life with the same abruptness that he’d arrived.

He had bought her a new couch—it was delivered the next day. Movers came for her and Jane’s stuff the day after that. A week later, she was informed that her student loans had been paid in full. Yet, she didn’t see Tony himself until three months after they moved to New York.

 

* * *

 

“So you’re Darcy.”

Those three words were ominous in any employment scenario, but they were especially intimidating when spoken by Pepper Potts herself.

“Tony’s told me a lot about you.” Somehow, that was even worse. Seeing the look on her face, Pepper laughed.

“Don’t worry. I’m a fan. Tony told me you refused to sleep with him, that you were worried about your career. And Doctor Foster’s.”

Darcy blinked. This was not what she was expecting on her first day.

“I’m sorry. Are the two of you…?”

Pepper laughed.

“Oh, no. We tried, once, years ago. It crashed and burned immediately. He really likes you, though.”

It was as much a shovel talk as she’d ever received.

 

* * *

 

The first time she saw Tony after they started working for SI, Darcy half-expected him to pour on the seduction techniques. He didn’t. Oh, he was casually flirty with her, and considerately asked about how they were settling into life in the city, in his own way (“But did you bring the couch?”). Most of his focus was on the research, Jane’s theories, and how it all related to the projects the companies had coming down the pipeline—as it should be.

She told herself she wasn’t disappointed.

The second time was similar, as were the third and fourth. Eventually she got used to the idea that their flirty will-they-won’t-they dynamic was a thing of the past, a fond memory of a rainy night or two in nowhere, Virginia. She let it go, and happily formed a friendship with him instead.

He started coming around more, almost every day—he and Jane were working on a project, something that required daily collaboration—and Darcy started including him in their morning coffee and lunch orders. They settled into a rhythm of jokes and teasing and light flirting, but nothing beyond what she’d seen him do with practically every woman who worked in the building.

He never called her ‘Short Stack’ again, a rebellious little part of her was happy to note.

Jane never said anything about it, though she did manage a couple of spectacular eyerolls at Darcy when Tony’s back was turned. Still, the three of them settled into a comfortable, if odd, routine.

Until the day that Pepper asked to take Darcy to lunch.

 

* * *

 

Wiping her hands on her skirt, Darcy rapped on the door frame that led into Tony’s lab. There wasn’t a response, so she tiptoed her way through all the half-finished projects and random salvage that littered the workshop.

He was in the middle of a haphazard mess of parts, as usual, with music playing so loud in his headphones she could hear the guitar riffs from across the room.

Just as she was trying to figure out how to signal him without breaking anything, he noticed her. Jumping in his seat, he pulled the headphones out of his ear, swiped an oil-covered hand through his hair, and sent half the tools on the workbench tumbling to the floor.

Yeah, she’d been an idiot.

“Darcy! Darce. Um, what are you doing here?” He cringed at the accusation. “I mean, not that you aren’t welcome. It’s just—you just—throw me a bone here, would you?” His pleading tone finally coaxed her into action.

“I’ve been an idiot.” It was her turn to cringe—not the best lead-in to a love confession. Or a whatever this was confession.

“What?” His hands dropped from his hair at her words. There was a streak of gummy oil tracked through it, but she didn’t even think he’d noticed. She really liked that about him.

“I’ve been an idiot, Tony. I’d—would you—?” She stopped, frustrated.

“Woah, easy there, girl.” He crossed the room in three strides to take her hands in his. The oil made them sticky, and their fingers clung together. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. Okay? No matter what it is. I’ve got you. You don’t need to worry—”

Gripping his hands tightly, she rose to her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his firmly. She lingered, allowing her lips to cling to his for a moment before falling back to earth.

“Tony, would you like to go on a date with me?”

For a moment, she thought she’d made a terrible mistake. His eyes stared straight into hers, his lips pressed into a thin white line.

Then, his mouth was on hers, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth, his hands buried in her hair. He kissed her like a man dying of thirst, like he’d been dreaming of it for months.

In the end, it was only fitting that they’d both end up with oil in their hair.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments make the world go 'round. ❤️❤️❤️


End file.
